



L E C T U E li 



CLASSICAL LEARJViJ^TG, 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE 



CONVENTION OF TEACHERS, 



AND OTHER 



FRIENDS OFEDUCATION 



ASSEMBLED TO FORM THE 



AMERICAN INSTITUTR OF INSTRUCTION. 



AUGUST, 20, 1830, 



BY CORNELIUS C. FELTON, 

TUTOR IN GREEK }N UARVAr\) UNIVERSITY. 



B OSTON: 
HILLIARD, GRAi% LITTLE AND WILKINS. 

vfe 

1831. 



DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS....TO WIT: 

District Clerk's Office. 
Be it remembered, That on the third day of November, A. D. 
; ?30, in the fiftyfifth year of the Independence of the United States of 
' merica, Hilliard, Gray, Little and Wilkins, of the said District, have de- 
, jsited in this Office the Title of a Book, the right whereof they claim 
{^^ Proprietors in tjje words following, to wit ; 

' The Introductory Discourse and Lectures, delivered in Boston, before 
He Convention of Teachers and other Friends of Education, assembled 
t ' form the American Institute of Instruction, August, 1830. Published 
■(-ader the Direction of the Board of Censors.' 

In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United Slates, entitled 
A 1 act for the encouragementof learning, by securing the copies of Maps, 
(.''.arts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies, during 
tiio times therein mentioned : ' and also to an Act entitled ' An Act sup- 
plementary to an Act, entitled, an Act for the encouragement of learning, 
by securing the copies of Maps, Charts and Books to the Authors and Pro- 
pVigtors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ; and extending 
tl e benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching his- 
torical and other prints.' 

JOHN W. DAVIS, Clerk of the District of Massachusetts. 







r 






0^" 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The author of the following lecture, yielded with 
reluctance to the request of the Censors, that he 
would furnish a copy for the press. The subjoined 
letter will show that itji was only his own feeling 
of the inadequacy of what he has said in this lec- 
ture, to express his views of the greatness and im- 
portance of classical studies, which prevented his 
consenting as cheerfully to its publication, as he had 
to delivering it before the Convention. 



TO THE CENSORS OF THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE. 

Gentlemen, 

The lecture which I now submit to your disposal, was 
not written with any view to publication, and I have therefore 
hesitated to send it to the press. The subject of classical 
learning is one of immense importance, wheii considered in 
all its bearings upon the intellectual culture of our times. It is 
impossible to do it anything like justice within the short compass 
of a single discourse ; and I have not attempted it. The preemi- 
nent merits of the great productions of antiquity, when consid- 
ered merely as works of original and creative genius ; the fine, 
graceful, airy, intellectual finishing they received from the hands 
of their unrivalled authors ; the intimate union of the classical 
taste, with all the best literature of succeeding times — with many 
other details, into which the argument for classical learnino-, in 
the present state of the literary world, must necessarily run, de- 
mand a wider space and more minuteness of discussion, than 
would be compatible with the purpose of a public discourse. On 
this account, I indulged in a rapid grouping of topics, a superficial 
and hurried series of sketchings, with as much of ' special plead- 
ing ' as the occasion permitted ; intending to correct these faults 
in a more extended work, for which I have been some time past 
collecting materials. It was my purpose to mould these materi- 
als into a volume of moderate compass, and submit it,, at some 



LETTER 

future period, to the American Institute. That purpose I still 
retain ; on which account I ask the indulgence of my readers for 
the obvious imperfections of the present lecture. Meantime, I 
beg leave to recommend to all interested in the subject of classi- 
cal learning, an admirable ' Introduction ' to the classics, by 
Mr Coleridge, a gentleman of kindred genius to his great poeti- 
cal namesake. His work does not pretend to a full and philo- 
sophical exhibition of the claims of classical learning, as a leading 
object in a system of liberal education. But it is a tasteful disqui- 
sition on the characteristics of some of the elder Grecian writers, 
and proves that its author possesses, in a liberal measure, the spirit 
of noble and generous scholarship. 

I am, gentlemeiv, with sincere respect. 
Your obedient servant, 

CORNELIUS C. FELTON. 



LECTURE 



CLASSICAL LEARNING 



In discussing the claims of classical learning, it is not my 
intention to revive the half-forgotten disputes in vi'hich the 
scholars of old arrayed themselves in contending parties, un- 
der the banners of ancient and of modern genius. The spirit 
which animated those violent times, is foreign from an occa- 
sion like the present. The fanaticism which taught men to 
abuse and scorn each other for differences in literary opinion, 
and woman, in the person of a fair votary of the Muses, the on- 
ly one of her sex whom the French Academy has ever deign- 
ed to eulogize, to fix upon her opponent, Lamothe, because 
he ridiculed Homer's mythology, the gentle epithets ' cold, flat, 
ridiculous, impertinent, grossly ignorant, proud and senseless/ 
and to remind him that Alcibiades boxed the ears of a rhetori- 
cian, because he had not Homer's v^^orks ; this absurd fanati- 
cism, it is far from m}' purpose to evoke. Yet it might well be 
matter of surprise, that the great masters of antiquity, whose 
works have stood the test of two thousand years, should, at 
this late day, be summoned before the tribunal of public opin- 
ion, their merits closely scrutinized, questioned, doubted, and, 
in some cases, passionately disputed. It might, I say, be mat- 
1* 



8 



MR FELTON S LECTURE. 



ter of surprise, had we not all observed and felt the revolution- 
ary character of the present age. There has been, for years 
past, a strong tendency to overturn old systems, however hal- 
lowed; to dispute old opinions, however estabhshed l)y the 
lapse of ages ; and to carry the work of revolution and reform 
from the halls of legislation to the halls of learning. These 
stirring movements of the awakened and excited mind, have 
doubtless swept away many systems and theories that had 
their origin in an age of darkness, and were unfit for an age of 
light. They have taught men to examine, compare, think, de- 
cide and act for themselves. But it becomes a momentous in- 
quiry for us, who are in the very vortex of the troubled wa- 
ters, whether there is not gresil danger, as well as advantage, 
in our present situation ; whether we may not, in the giddy 
whirl, neglect too much the old land-marks, and make ship- 
wreck on the ocean of change. 

The adversaries of classical learning assert, that ' the main 
reason for giving such importance to the ancient masters, in a 
course of liberal education, was, iu former times, the fact that 
they were the only teachers. The moderns had not yet begun 
that series of researches and discoveries, which have been so 
splendidly exhibited in these latter days. The physical, moral, 
intellectual sciences were unknown, save as the sages of the 
Academy and the Porch had taught them. The genius of 
modern poetry was voiceless, or breathed only liarsh strains 
in the barbarous Latiiiity of the Monks. It was therefore 
correct and proper that recourse should be had to their instruc- 
tions, for want of better. But now the case is widely difTerent ; 
the tables are turned. The ancients were not wiser than we 
are, but we are wiser than they. We have carried on and per- 
fected what they only began. They might have been giants, 
we grant, and we may be pigmies ; but then we have the ad- 
vantage of being upon their shoulders, and of course see farther. 
Shall we then continue to look with their eyes?' Such is 
the reasoning of the more moderate and rational among the 
opposers of classical learning. 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. \t 

Others have entered itito the controversy with a spirit of 
violence and denunciation, altogether unbecoming gentlemen 
and scholars. The advocates of classical learning have been 
held up to the ridicule of tiie public as the bigoted adherents to 
a useless and cumbrous system, because they are too idle and 
selfish to admit the lights of modern improvement. They 
have been charged with palming off upon the world a cheap 
and trilling stock of words, a parade of verbal niceties, for 
the genuine learning which is to prepare young men to act 
their parts well in the great drama of life. A tone of bitterness, 
a rancor Hke that of personal hostility and family quarrels, 
has assailed them, and the whole armory of sarcasm has been 
exhausted. But denunciation and anathema are not to be rea- 
soned with, — ' and who can refute a sneer ? ' It often hap- 
pens, we well know, that the most violent are the most igno- 
rant. Men have derided the wit and wisdom of antiquity, 
who are unable to explain a classical allusion, or interpret a 
Latin sentence. Smatterers have assailed the reputation and de- 
nounced the writings of the mightiest of Grecian philosophers, 
to whom the curious inquirers into the mysteries of the Greek 
alphabet, would turn in vain for light. And yet the opinions 
of such men, unworthj?' as they are of confidence, derive from 
their impudent assurance, an authority against which reason, 
and good sense, and sound learning, are for a time of little 
avail. But the calm and rational skeptics have stated their 
questions, and deserve a reply. An exposition of the claiqis 
that classical learning still maintains upon our attention and 
respect, will contain that reply. Few, I believe, who reflect 
upon the prospect of our country, can doubt the importance of 
the question being candidly asked and candidly answered. A 
nation, embracing more than twelve millions of men, irrespon- 
sible to any higher power than themselves, with their own 
destinies, whether for good or for evil, in their hands, each 
generation training up those who are to succeed them in the 
high and perilous trust, has a deep, and almost overwhelming 
stake in the chance of success or ruin, and the means of se- 
curing the one or averting the other. 



10 MR felton's lecture. 

Much Avit has been expended in ridiculing the pursuits of 
the philologist. But true philosophy regards every manifesta- 
tion of mind, whether in the forms of language, the creations ^f 
poetry, the abstractions of science, or the godlike gift of oiatory, 
as worthy of its study. The mind, the essential and immor- 
tal part of man, is not to be contemned in an)^ one of its thou- 
sand fold aspects and operations. Among the most curious 
and subtile of these operations, the process unfolded by the de- 
velopcment of speech may fairly be classed. This gift, so uni- 
versal, so indispensable, like the air we breathe, is scarcely 
valued because its loss is rarely felt. But let us reflect a mo- 
ment upon its infinite importance, and we cannot, with any- 
thing like the spirit of true philosophy, scorn its study, as a 
puerile and trifling object. That power by wdiich all other 
powers are guided and foshioned, by which all emotions are 
described, by v/hich all the playful efforts of fancy are made 
distinct to the perceptions of others, by which, more than by 
all our powers besides, the creations of genius are illustrated — 
and language the instrument of that power, the most inge- 
nious and finished of all instruments — can it indeed be so 
small, so contemptible, as to fix justly upon those eflgaged in 
its study the scornful epithets of ' word-weighers,' and ' gerund- 
grinders 1 ' Language opens a wide and curious field to the 
observation of those whose pursiuts lead them to trace the in- 
tricate phenomena of intellect. The great difBculty in study- 
ing the philosophy of mind, arises from the impalpable nature 
of the objects to be scanned in that study. Language is one 
of the modes, and a most essential one, by which the opera- 
tions of intellect are distinctly made visible. In stud}/ing lan- 
guage, therefore, we are in fact studying 7Jiind, through the 
agency of its most purely intellectual instrument. In mas- 
tering language, we not only attain the power of wielding this 
most efficient instrument, but we make ourselves faniiliar 
with the results, and we comprehend the compass of those 
gifts which make us feel that we are ' fearfully and wonderful- 
ly made.' Such pursuits can have no other tendency than to 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. ll 

Strengthen and elevate the mind, and prepare it, conseqaently, to 
act with energ-y, dignity and success, upon the various objects 
presented to it in hfe. But it is said, the student of language 
is employed about loords to the neglect of things. I cannot 
help calling such reasoning-, or rather such assertions, for it 
is not reasoning, poor, unmeaning cant. Wasting time upon 
luords to the neglect of things! Are not words, realities'^ 
Have they not a separate, an independent existence 1 Nay, 
more ; have they not a power to stir up the soul, to sway na- 
tions even, such as no other things ever possessed or ever can 
possess? Did not the v/ords of Demosthenes carry more dread 
to the heart of Philip than the arms of Athens and the for- 
tresses of her tributary cities ? Have not the words of Homer 
touclied the hearts and roused the imaginations of myriads, 
many centuries since the walls of Troy and the armaments of 
Greece perished from the foce of the earth, and the site of Pri- 
am's capital was lost from the memories of men? — It is true 
that the trifling and quibbling of some philologists give a plau- 
sible air to the objections raised against these studies. But 
would you condemn the mathematics, because one votary of 
the science declared his contempt for Paradise Lost— a work 
which proved no truth by a cliain of geometrical or algebra- 
ic reasoning ? Would you reject geology, because an enthu- 
siast values a stone, apparently worthless, more than a splen- 
did product of imagination? Would 3^ou shut your mind 
against the beautiful science of botany, because you have seen 
one so absorbed in its study that he would expend more anx- 
ious care in rearing a puny hot-house plant, than in allevia- 
ting sorrow or saving life ? Are you prepared to throw away 
the hopes of religion, because a few bigots, attaching an over- 
strained importance to trifles, make it appear absurd, and strip it 
of almost every attribute that can command your respect? 
Analogy, I am aware, is not argument; but the same kind of 
reasoning, which is aimed at philological studies, might be aim- 
ed with equal success against every science we value, every 
truth we hold sacred. 



12 MR. felton's lecture. 

Sach are some of the general considerations that recom- 
mend the study of language. But the classical languages, be- 
sides these, have other and peculiar claims ujDon our attention. 
No one will for a moment dispute the importance of under- 
standing the full power of our vernacular tongue. I assume 
this as a fact beyond discussion and argument. I assert, more- 
over, the impossibility of doing this without the aid of Greek 
and Latin. This latter position may be, and has been, disputed. 
It has been assumed a thousand times as an argumeiii in 
su])port of classical learning, and a thousand times its force 
and pertinency have been denied. The case may, however, be 
stated bncfl}^, and, as I think, convincingly. The progress of 
language, at least as far back as u'ritten language extends, 
raay be traced wdth no great difficulty. We know not of what 
elements the Hebrew tongue was formed. It is the earliest 
and simplest language that wc have the means of examining 
in written records. But we can easily trace the radical signifi- 
cation of man}'' Greek words, to Hebrew forms ; and the influ- 
ence of one of these languages upon its successor, is as clearly 
perceptible as any phenomenon in physical science. And 
though a general knowledge of Greek, and one sufficient for 
all ordinary purposes, may be obtained without going higher 
than itself into the antiquity of speech, yet it is perfectly obvi- 
ous that a thoroughly critical acquaintance with it can be pur- 
chased only at the price of resorting to the subsidiary dialects. 
The Latin \vas formed chiefly from a modification of Greek. 
The Romans drew largely from Grecian fountains, both in 
language and literature ; and vain w^ould be his labors, who 
should essay to comprehend the efforts of Roman genius, 
without first listening to the instructions of Rome's literary 
masters. 

In the division of the Roman empire and the formation of 
modern states, other languages arose from the ruins of the 
Latin. Four of the principal dialects of modern Europe bear 
so strong a resemblance to the parent tongue, that a knowledge 
of the latter makes the attainment of the former an affair of tri- 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 13 

fling labor. Other languages of Europe, and our own among 
the rest, are derived Ixit in part from the Latin ; and I assert 
that so far as that part goes, a knowledge of Latin is essential 
to one who would understand it fully, and wield it with cer- 
tainty and effect. Nearly all our words of Roman origin 
retain the radical meaning of their primitives. Their general 
import may, it is true, be gathered from English usage ; but the 
peculiar, the nicely critical propriety of their application, is un- 
known, save to the classical scholar ; and all others, who at- 
tempt to write their own mother tongue, especially in the dis- 
cussion of literary subjects, are liable to mar their pages by 
slight inaccuracies of style, and inaccuracies in the vise of single 
words, whichdestroy their claim to the honor of being classical 
models of composition. Such is the inevitable result of the 
natural progress of the human mind. Had we lived in the 
times of the ancients, and tliey in ours, the case would have 
been reversed. They would have drawn instruction from 
our writings ; their languages would have received an infusion 
from ours ; and to learn the exact quality of that infusion, 
they must have traced it to its fountain head with us. ^ We do 
not compromise one particle of our claim to originality, by ad- 
mitting the necessity of resorting to ancient tongues, in order 
to learn our own. It is only admitting, in the spirit of philos- 
ophy, what the natural course of human thought, and our rel- 
ative position to the great civilized nations who have gone be- 
fore us, make it incumbent on us, as reasoning men to admit. 
Perhaps the exceptions may be urged of such men as Frank- 
lin, who have written our language in great purity and ele- 
gance, without having been trained in the discipline of classical 
schools. If I grant that these apparent exceptions are excep- 
tions in fact, I might defend my position by the plea, that a few 
exceptions never invalidate a general rule ; and I might array 
in reply to every single exception, five hundred examples in 
which the rule holds good. But there is little argument to 
be drawn from the literary powers of Dr Franklin, against the 
utility of classical learning. According to his own statements, 



14 MR felton's lecture. 

his style was formed by closely imitating the best models of 
English composition— the papers of tbe Spectator— which, we 
all know, are from the pens of the most accomplished classical 
scholars England has ever produced. The purity, simplicity 
and beauty of Dr Franklin's style, therefore, is, after all, the 
consequence of an exquisite taste in ancient literature ; although 
with him, it comes at second hand. Is any one prepared to 
say that the language of Franklin would not have been more 
bold, more stirring, more eloquent, had his mind, after having 
been cultivated and refined in the study of antiquity, given 
free scope to its acknowledged powers, and acted by its own 
resistless iuKpulses, untrammelled by the fetters of imita- 
tion? 

Not only our language, but our literature, is closely depend- 
ent on the classical. The fine conceptions, the productions of 
the beautiful fancy of the ancients, have exerted so strong an 
influence upon the tone and genius of the elder English litera- 
ture, that one half of the beauties of the latter are lost sight 
of without a knowledge of tlie former. The great writers of 
England have been filled to overllowing with classic lore. 
The history, and poetry, and oratory of Greece and Rome, 
have lent them their tributary aids ; the sages of antiquity 
have poured out their richest treasures to illustrate, adorn, and 
enforce the glorious conceptions of English intellect. Classi- 
cal allusions and illustrations, tastefully eixiployed, are enchant- 
ing to a cultivated mind. In English literature they are used 
with a skill and beauty that form one of its most delightful 
traits. This does not arise from, nor does it argue, a want of 
originality. It would be impossible to prevent such influences 
of the literature of one age upon that of another, except by en- 
tire ignorance of everything that does not come within our own 
experience. We may complain of it, if we please, but we 
cannot change the order of time, and place ourselves at the 
beginning of the history of our race. The ancients were be- 
fore us, and we have studied them, and cannot help it. *We 
cannot read our own writers, without being constantly remind- 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 



15 



«d of those great men. The law of progress requires that it 
should be so. As well might you attempt to throw up a dyke 
against the fountain-heads of a mighty river^ and expect it to 
flow uninterruptedly on to the ocean, as to dam up the chan- 
nels of thought, and hope to force the mind onward in the ca- 
reer of improvement. 

Fortunate, indeed, is it for us, that the creations of Grecian 
genius were guided by such unerring taste. The intellectual 
character oiHhat gifted nation was formed under the happiest 
auspices. Nature was lavish of her beauties upon her favor- 
ed land ; but she did not convert it into a region of oriental 
softness. Every influence that tended to give refinement and 
elegance to the mind, was there felt ; but refinement and ele- 
gance were made to stop at the proper limits, and never allow- 
ed to become degenerate and effeminate. Her free and oft- 
times tumultuous politics gave energy, her matchless cli- 
mate infused vivacity aiicl cheerfulness, her scenery inspired 
a pure taste and an exquisite perception of beauty. The hu- 
man form was developed in its fairest proportions. The ma- 
jestic and intellectual head, the finely expanded frame, the ac- 
tive and airy and graceful motion, gave to artists the proto- 
types of their chiselled gods. Add to this their beautiful modes 
of instruction ; music and science uniting to give at once a hu- 
manized and manly tone to the character, in the groves of the 
Academy, . on the places of public resort, by the wisest, best, 
and most eloquent from among them, with the noblest speci- 
mens of art all around them, the marble almost waking into 
life, the canvass glowing with the hues of heaven — and we 
cannot wonder at the perfection of Grecian taste ; — we cannot 
but congratulate ourselves, that a race so favored, so gifted, 
were called to preside over the beginnings and direct the des- 
tinies of intellectual Europe, — that the Genius of Greece yet 
lives, as fresh, as bright, as beautiful, as her own blue hills, 
sunny skies, and green isles. 

Another additional consideration in favor of the study of an- 
icient languages, is the fact that they are more finished than 
2 



16 MR felton's lecture. 

any others. The perfection of the Greek tongue has always 
been the admiration of scholars. Its flexibility, its exhaustless 
vocabulary, its power of increasing that vocabulary at will by 
the use of compounds, make it an admirable vehicle for the 
communication of thought, even to the nicest shades ; while its 
unrivalled harmony imparts to poetry a richness and beauty 
beyond the capacity of any modern tongue. The principles 
and power of language are here more fully unfolded ; the phi- 
losophy of rhetoric is more thoroughly displayed. i4.dd to this, 
the Greek grammar is now fixed and settled. There it is, be- 
yond the reach of change, an object of study, to be resorted to 
at any time — ever perfect, ever beautiful. But beyond and 
above the study of mere language, I know of no better intel- 
lectual discipline than to determine the meaning of an ancient 
author. The principles of grammar are to be applied bv the 
reason and the judgment ; the situation of the author must 
be vividly presented to the mind by the memory and the im- 
agination ; the connexion of the passage in question with the 
context, is to be closely scrutinized ; the style of ancient 
thought to be taken into consideration, and, after thus exercis- 
ing the most important of oiu" powers, the purport of a difficult 
passage may be settled. This is precisely the course of reflection 
and reasoning which men must follow, in determining the pro- 
per conduct for many difficult conjunctures in life ; — it is acting 
upon probabilities. 

Such is the process, and such the discipline, of determining 
single passages. Of a similar and more elevated kind, is the in- 
tellectual eflfort of comprehending the entire worth of an au- 
thor. It is not enough barely to give his works a hasty peru- 
sal, or even a careful perusal, with a knowledge of the lan- 
guage simply. The student who would enter fully into the 
merits of a classical author, must take himself out of the in- 
fluences immediately around him ; must transport himself 
back to a remote age ; must lay aside the associations most fa- 
miliar to him ; must forget his country, his prejudices, his su- 
perior light, and place himself upon a level with the intellect 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 17 

whose labors he essays to comprehend. Few are the minds 
that would not be benefited by such a process. We are dis- 
posed to permit our thoughts and feehngs to repose too much 
upon the objects nearest us ; and thus a constant reference to 
self becomes the haljitual direction of our thoughts. What was 
the character of the age in which he lived ? what was the re- 
ligion ? how far did it gain a hold upon the minds of cultiva- 
ted men 1 to what extent did it influence the tone of poetry 1 
what were the philosophical theories, and how far were they 
true, and how extensively were they believed 1 what was the 
character of the nation, and what had been its historical ca- 
reer ? what was the state of political parties and what was the 
government? what were the doctrines held by each, and 
wherein did they differ — and how far was the individual mind 
of the author in question wrought upon by all these influences? 
are questions which should be asked, and, as far as possible, 
answered, by the scholar who would do himself and literature 
AiU justice, by the mode in which he pursues his classical stu- 
dies. I am aware that such is not often the path followed by 
the scholars of our country ; but I do sincerely beheve that the 
worth of classical learning will never be realized until some 
such method is adopted. I know, too, it involves a depth of 
thought and. a wide range of studies, from which we are apt 
to shrink in alarm, and ask ourselves if there is, not some short- 
er way to attain the object ; but reason, as I think, decides 
without appeal, that such is the price of genuine classical eru- 
dition. 

Knowledge of the sort I have described, may not lead to 
the invention of a single new mechanical agent ; it may not 
be the direct means of increasing our fortunes a single dollar. 
But it will give us an enlarged view of our nature; it will 
disclose the workings of our common powers under influences 
widely differing from any that have acted upon ourselves ; it 
will teach us to judge charitably of others' minds and hearts- 
it will teach us that intellect, and sensibility, and genius, have 
existed beyond the narrow circle in which we have moved 



18 



MR FELTON S LECTURE. 



beyond the limits of our country — centuries before our age. 
Such lessons are needed in the every day concerns of life. 
Those who say that the classics are of no practical use — those 
even who say that they are merely ornamental in a liberal ed- 
ucation, show an entire forgetfulness of their most striking and 
obvious effects. They are eminently practical. They require 
the most practical modes of reasoning to comprehend them ; 
they give the most practical views of our nature ; they prepare 
the professional man for his labors, by presenting a field of 
practically similar labor, before he enters upon its special duties. 
I have no hesitation in asserting, that a mind long trained in un- 
folding the meaning and worth of classical authors, by the 
course of inquiries I have described, will be eminently prepar- 
ed for the intricate investigations of the profession of law. 

I repeat again the qualification which must be made to 
these remarks, when applied to the classical studies common 
in our own country. We take them up, with little knowledge 
of ancient history, and none of mythology ; we hurry through 
them, with or without a grammatical knowledge of the lan- 
guages, as chance or caprice may direct ; we bring them to 
the standard of modern tastes, and refer them to our own tri- 
bunals. Instead of transporting ourselves back to the time 
when they lived, we summon their Shades to appear before us, — 
differing in every respect froiTi them, differing in religion, dif- 
fering in morality, differing in prejudices — to answer for opin- 
ions and systems, put forth ages and ages before our own opin- 
ions and systems were thought of. Such is not doing the jus- 
tice we owe them. 

But apart from all other considerations, the merits of 
ancient lierature, as judged by any standard, entitle it to a 
high place in every system of education. My remarks ap- 
ply chiefly to Greek literature, because it is not only the most 
exquisitely finished, but the fountain-head of the Roman and 
of all successive literature. I have already spoken in general 
terms of the circumstances which tended to give the Genius of 
Greece its unrivalled taste. If that high culture is more fully 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 19 

displayed in any one portion of Greek literature than in the 
rest, that portion is their poetry. From the first book of Homer 
to the last play of Euripides, the train of noble conceptions, 
exquisite expression, and matchless imagery, betrays the pecu- 
liar and unrivalled intellect of the finest masters in the art. 
It would be too much hke the hundredth repetition of common- 
places to enlarge upon the noble character of Homer's poems ; — • 

Clui, quid sit pulchnim, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, 
PJaniiis ac melius, Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 

But I cannot forbear quoting the opinions of an illustrious 
Gennan critic. ' The influence which the works and the 
genius of Homer have of themselves produced on after ages, 
or rather, indeed, on the general character and improvement of 
the human race, has alone been far more durable, and far 
more extensive, than the combined efforts of all the institutions 
of the Athenian, and all the heroic deeds and transcendent 
victories of the Macedonian. In truth, if Solon and Alexander 
still continue to be glorious and immortal names, their glory 
and immortality are to be traced rather to the influence which, 
by certain accidents, their genius has exerted on the intellectual 
character and progress of the species, than to the intrinsic value 
of a system of municipal laws, altogether discrepant from our 
own, or to the establishment of a few dynasties, which have 
long since passed away. ' 

Greek poetry is abundant in every department of the art. 
But if I were to select a part moie worthy than the rest to bo 
cultivated by an intellectual man, that v^^ould be the drama. 
This most singular and beautiful manifestation of Grecian 
genius, was favored by every circumstance that could make it 
purely and intensely national. The vivacity and inquisitive- 
ness of the Athenians, their enthusiastic love of the arts and 
of poetry, rendered the drama an object in which the proudest 
spirits aspired for distinction. The Greek tragedies "have, 
accordingly, been esteemed among hterary men as the most in- 
teresting -and valuable remains of ancient poetry ; and this feel- 
2* 



20 AIR FELTON's LECTURE, 

ing of admiration has, among some modern nations, been caf' 
ried to such a pitch of extravagance, that the expression of 
true, genuine, rational and modern feeUng has been made to 
give place in hterature, to a cold and heartless imitation, both 
of the classical style in language, and of the classical style 
in thought. But it may easily be shown, that the same prin- 
ciples of good taste which guided the ancients, should also 
teach modern nations to comply with the genius of the asre. 

To understand the Greek drama fully, we must not only 
ascertain the spirit of the people and the light in which they 
regarded it, but a minute acquaintance with the architectural 
construction of the theatre, and the scenic details, is absolutely 
necessary. It is impossible to gain from ancient authors all on 
this subject which may be desired ; but a careful perusal of Vi- 
truvius, with the proper explanations, will throw much light on 
this part of Grecian learning. The beauty of their climate en- 
abled the Greeks to enjoy theatrical amusements with no 
roof above them but the sky. It seemed singularly appropri- 
ate, that representations in Avhich the gods and heroes of their 
mythology bore so distinguished a part, should be held beneath 
the broad canopy of the heavens. The great interest felt in 
dramatic exhibitions, and the grave importance they at- 
tached to them, called the whole people, or as large a portion 
of the people as attended any public occasion, into the theatres ; 
which therefore nuist have been of prodigious size. Indeed, 
it was to a certain extent a religious ceremony — an exhibi- 
tion in honor of the divinities to whom, in a half poetical, half 
religious sense, they paid their adoration. 

The character of the Greek tragedy is elevated high above 
the common, even the great characters of actual life. The 
traditions of an heroic age were gathered up and embodied — 
an age in which gigantic vices were united to heroic and no- 
ble qualities in the same individuals. The ancient kings, that 
ruled before the repubhcan principle was introduced, are 
brought forward, in scenic grandeur — the terribly tragic events, 
half of human and half of divine agency, the memory x)f which 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 21 

Was borne along in mythological tale, were woven into 
these sublime productions for the entertainment of an Athenian 
audience. Thus the drama became national from the heroic 
recollections it served to perpetuate, and the peculiarly religious 
air thrown over it. It was national also from the great pub- 
lic interest it excited, and the throngs it drew together. In 
tragedy, therefore, we may find the highest developement of 
Grecian character and genius ; and he who is wilUng to ex- 
pend the labor necessary to comprehend it, will find himself 
richly repaid. In the Prometheus, for instance, of iEschy- 
lus, one of the earliest dramatic performances which have 
come down to us — some of the most remarkable characteris- 
tics of tragedy, as well as of its author's astonishing genius^ 
are singularly manifested. 

The tone of ^schylus was stern and austere. He had fought 
in the battles of his country's liberties ; and in one of his po- 
ems, ' The Persians,' had described the humihation of Persia, 
and the ignominious retreat of her monarch from the Grecian 
shores. The martial spirit of the poet utters its trumpet-tones 
in the ' Seven before Thebes ' — ^but, as I have remarked, the 
peculiar scope of Grecian tragedy is more traceable in the Pro- 
metheus — I mean the terrible power of Fate, subjecting gods and 
man to its inexorable dominion. It is supposed by critics that 
' Prometheus ' was the subject of a whole Trilogy, like that 
formed by the three connected dramas, ' Agamemnon, the 
Choephorse, and the Eumenides.' The ' Fire-bringing,' th« 
' Chained,' and the '■ Freed Prometheus,' form the subjects of 
the Trilogy — and these exhaust the mythus. The ' Chain- 
ed Prometheus ' is alone preserved, with the exception of a 
portion of the ' Freed Prometheus,' which has come down to 
us in a Latin translation. The disobedient act of bringing 
fire from heaven, had drawn upon the head of this great ben- 
efactor of man, the vengeance of the gods. He is condemned 
to be chained on a rock surrounded by the ocean. Strength 
and Force, two symbolical personages, compel Yulcan to car- 
ry their commands and threats into execution ; but he renwn 



22 



MR PELTOn's lecture. 



strates with them on the inexorable decree, of which he is 
forced unhappily to be the agent. Prometheus then begins his 
solitary complaints. 'O divine sky, and ye swift-winged 
breezes, ye founts of rivers, ye countless ripples of the 
ocean-waves, thou universal mother earth, and thou all-seeing 
circle of the sun, I call on you to witness what I suffer at the 
hands of the gods.' A Chorus of the ocean nymphs appears 
and attempts to soothe him by their tender sympathy. Prome- 
theus had closed his complaint by saying, ' The air resounds 
with the hurried flapping of birds' wings. Everything that ap- 
proaches me is terrible.' The Chorus replies — ' Fear not ; this 
winged throng hath approached this place, in hurrying rivalry, 
but as thy friend— having with difficulty persuaded the mind of- 
our father. The swift breezes brought us hither ; for the 
sound of the clashing of brass hath penetrated the recess of our 
caverns, and startled us from our silent retirement — and we have 
rushed hither, unsandalled, w'ith our winged chariot.' — Pro- 
metheus. ' Alas ! alas ! offspring of the prolific Tethys, chil- 
dren of Ocean, earth-encircling with hissleepless wave — behold ! 
look ! with what chains I am bound, and on the rocky summit 
of this steep, must ever keep a dreadful vigil.' — Choriis. ' We 
see, Pronetheus, a sad and tearful cloud hath spread itself before 
our eyes, while looking upon thy body, exposed on these rocks, 
and held Ijy adamantine chains ; for new rulers govern Olympus 
— and with new laws Jupiter hath unjustly subjected it — and the 
powers of old he hath obliterated.' This, it is thought, alludes 
to the ancient warfare between the Titans, who symbolically 
represent the primeval powers of nature and the gods, which 
ended in the subjection of the former to the latter — or the 
changing of the universe from a state of chaos to a state of or- 
der and harmony. Prometheus then narrates the causes of 
his fall, and reveals a portion of the future. Oceanus, one of 
the ancient race of Titans, advises him to yield to the power of 
Jove, but is dismissed with deep contempt. lo appears, who is 
driven to wander from place to place, by the same resistless 
power, and hstens to his prophetic revelation of her future suf- 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 23 

ferings. Mercury, the messenger of the gods, arrives, com- 
manding him, in the name of Jupiter, to reveal the secret by 
which the power of Fate may be averted ; but in vain. The 
overwhehning effects of the wrath of the King of Heaven, up- 
on the unconquered and unconquerable victim of his power, 
are briefly described in a soliloquy of Prometheus, which con- 
cludes the poem. ' Now in deed, and not in word, the earth is 
shaken to its centre. The echo of the thunder bellows around 
me, and the fiery-forked lightnings gleam, and the whirlwinds 
roll the dust ; the blasts of all the winds leap forth, rushing 
against each other in tempestuous uproar ; and the sky is com- 
mingled with the sea ; so great, so terrible a tumult, is visibly 
'Come upon me. O my worshipped Mother, and thou. Heaven, 
that circlest the common light of all ; behold how unjustly I 
suffer.' 

' The triumph of subjection,' says a deep classical scholar, 
'was never celebrated in more glorious strains ; and we have dif- 
ficulty in conceiving how the poet, in the Freed Prometheus, 
could sustain himself on such an elevation.' This sublime 
poem, is, indeed, a magnificent developement of an uncon- 
querable will, bearing up against a higher power, which had 
chosen, in" the plenitude of its greatness, to lay upon Prome- 
theus a tyrannical hand. Chained to a rock, amidst the most 
terrible and appalling array of power ; threatened by the mes- 
senger of the gods ; disheartened by the melancholy sympathy 
of the ocean nymphs, and counselled to submit by Oceanus 
himself; surrounded by storms, and thunder, and lightning, and 
earthquakes — ^he still maintains his determined purpose, sus- 
tained by an inward energy, which knows not submission — 
and boldly looking to a dim and distant future for deliverance 
from his present woes. These noble creations of Grecian 
genius, need, 1 trust, no arguments to present, in a striking 
light, the advantages of their study ; they need to be under- 
stood only, and they will surely be ranked among the priceless 
treasures of the human intellect. 

Such are the materials for reflection presented in the Grecian 



24 MR felton's lecture. 

drama, the most perfect display, as I believe, of genius and 
taste that the world has ever witnessed. To set forth its claims 
adequately, a critical and philosophical examination of each 
piece would be required. I have barely given a simple and 
very imperfect sketch of one of the earliest — illustrated by a 
few brief quotations, which I have rendered in literal prose. 
To the drama itself I would urge you to resort, for the best 
exposition of its preeminent claims — for that ingenious and 
beautiful intermixture of ancient mythology, religion, deep 
philosophy, and lofty poetry, with the actual and genuine 
character of the Grecian intellect in its highest and purest 
form, which defies all rivalry and surpasses all description. 

Another form in which the intellect of Greece was beauti- 
tifully iTianifested, is to be found in her philosophy. We are 
too much given to hasty decisions on this interesting subject. 
In the pride of modern superiority, sweeping sentences of con- 
demnation have been passed upon the whole circle of ancient 
labors in this curious and important department. Lord Ba- 
con pointed out the proper mode of physical inquiry ; and this 
mode has been adopted in mental investigation. The absurd 
quibbles of the schoolmen were detected, when the light of 
common sense shed upon them the strong illumination of truth ; 
and the ridicule which they merited, went back and rested 
upon the head of Aristotle, whose principles they had so igno- 
rantly abused. In the popular language of the last half centu- 
ry, absurdity, sophistry, and unmeaning jargon, have been 
almost synonymous with the logic and metaphysics of the 
Greeks. But literary justice requires that the earnest efforts 
of great minds, in whatever line of exertion, should be 
studied and appreciated in a spirit of candor. 

When I contemplate the noble doctrines of Plato, and his 
noble manner of maintaining them ; when I reflect that he 
taught the immortaUty of the soul, the corrupting power of vice, 
the stain which sin fixes upon the heart ; that he supported his 
tenets by arguments which still serve as a basis to the best 
reasoning of the moderns ; that he showed an unrivalled acute- 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 25 

ness of intellect in his dialogues, as in the ' Sophist ; ' and join- 
ed to this a high-toned and uncompromising morality, inculca- 
ting adherence to duty, at the cost of life itself, pointing out 
the path of honor and virtue in the most trying situations, 
where fear and friendship and attachment to the world, and a 
sense of injustice powerfully aided the solicitations of friends, 
the arguments of beloved disciples, and the moving spectacle of 
an agonized family — exhibited in the delineation of Socrates, 
in the ' Phaedon '• — that he portrayed the same great sage, in 
the character of a benevolent instructer, a kind friend, taking 
by the hand a youthful pupil, and leading him into the paths 
of true knowledge — in ' Theages '—that he himself per- 
formed the part of a devoted and affectionate disciple, in 
his beautiful and eloquent ' Apology ' — I cannot but think it 
is much more fashionable to condemn, than it is to study, the 
philosophy of Athens. I am aware that Plato's imaginative 
mind led him into many fantastical theories. But it argues, 
I think, a feeble sense of justice, to scorn his noble views of 
God, of duty, and of immortality, because we may safely ridi- 
cule his ' Pyramid of Fire ' and his theory of metempsychosis. 
We must admire and approve his belief in the divine origin 
and immutable essence of the soul, though we may neither 
admire nor approve his Utopian scheme of a republic, founded 
upon an unqualified extension of this system of psychology. 
It is but just to the writers of any country and of any age, to 
separate the great leading truths which they attempt to illus- 
trate and enforce, from the particular forms, in the shape of 
theories and hypotheses in which those truths are folded ; for 
theories and hypotheses may be false or visionary, but they 
may serve as vehicles for that sentiment of truth, which, so long 
as yon broad sky is above us, and this fair earth beneath us, 
and this mysteriously mingled union of physical and immortal 
powers is within us— will be an inmate of the human soul. 

When I reflect that Aristotle listened twenty years to the in- 
structions of his master ; that he compassed the whole extent of 
human learning ; that, in' natural history and philosophy, he 



26 MR felton's lecture. 

stood unrivalled and alone ; that he drew up a system of logic, 
which, more than any system ever devised by man, has receiv- 
ed the applause and guided the researches of past ages ; that 
to his instruction the greatest general of antiquity confessedly 
was more indebted than to all besides, for his commanding pre- 
eminence; that Cicero, the best judge in hterary and philosophi- 
cal matters that the ancient world produced, said of him, Ex- 
cepto Platojie, haud scio an recte dixerim jirincipem jihiloso- 
phorum ; — I must still believe it more fashionable to utter 
fluent and flippant contempt against the quibbles of the Stagy- 
rite, than to study the hard, severe, the iron reasoning of ' the 
Prince of Philosophers.' 

When I contemplate the character of Socrates, as portrayed by 
Plato and Xenophon, his puie, precise, and philosophical ethics, 
his almost christian temper, his high moral firmness, his confi- 
dence in a future existence, his belief in the rewards' of virtue — 
when I contemplate this character, formed by self-discipline, 
from natural propensities to licentiousness and depravity — when 
I read that from his instruction went forth a school of sages to 
whom Greece owed, in great part, that splendid reputation for 
wit, genius, and philosophy over which ' decay's effacing fingers' 
pass but lightly — my belief is yet stronger, that it is mvich 
more fashionable to descant upon the worthlessness of Grecian 
philosophy and Grecian morality, than to study the noble 
characters which that philosophy and morality produced. 

The most practically useful portion of Greek literature, to 
an American student destined for public life, would perhaps be 
considered its oratory. The publicity with which great na- 
tional questions were discussed in Greece, gave rise, particular- 
ly in Athens, to the streimous study of this art. All public 
men were public speakers. It was by direct action upon the 
popular mind, that commanding influence was won and retain- 
ed. The example and history of the first of orators, are most 
worthy models for the imitation of all in every age, who as- 
pire to the glory of oratorical renown. The style and pow- 
er of the eloquence of Demosthenes have been two long cele- 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 27 

brated for me to urge them upon your consideration now. 
But there is one portion of that great man's history, to which 
I cannot forbear alluding, as a most thrilling passage. I mean 
the ' Contest for the Crown.' The Athenian people had resolv' 
ed to reward the public services of Demosthenes, by present- 
ing him with a golden crown. Ctesiphon had taken the lead 
in this act of popular recognition of the orator's merit, and be- 
came, in consequence, odious to his enemies. jEschines, 
whose jealousy and enmity to Demosthenes had been manifest- 
ed on several previous occasions, instituted an impeachment, 
and had Ctesiphon prosecuted before the public assembly. This 
was a great, an intensely interesting occasion. Public curiosity 
was awake ; expectation was excited ; the two greatest orators 
were to appear, in the desperate attempt to measure strength 
with each other. Never was an occasion more exactly calcu- 
lated to arouse Athenian inquisitiveness than this. On the 
one side was jealousy, vindictiveness, and envy, supported by 
powers acknowledged to be second to none but those of the 
man of the nation. On the other, the popular enthusiasm to 
bear onward, unrivalled reputation to sustain, the conscious- 
ness of resistless power, and the tremendous consequences of 
defeat. Every motive that could be impressed upon the mind 
in that age, was present before them. The day Came on. 
The crowd was assembled. The orators successivly arose, and 
the Ustening multitudes hung, hour after hour, upon the speak- 
ers' lips. But the matchless eloquence of Demosthenes pre- 
vailed, and his enemy was banished. Fortunately we have 
these celebrated orations preserved, and can therefore appreciate 
those gifts, which, at Athens, were ranked so high. The 
eagerness with which the Greeks listened to these magnificent 
efforts of intellect, and read them from year to year, may be 
estimated by the eagerness with which we lately rushed to the 
pages of our own Demosthenes, after he had won his splendid 
victory on the Senate-floor of our country. 

1. The orations of Demosthenes afford an admirable study, 
both to disciphne and arouse the mind. It requires no little 
3 



28 MR felton's lecture. 

labor to acquire the power of entering into their spiiit fully. 
They must be studied until the train of thought, the peculiar 
expressions, and the general character of the whole are perfect- 
ly familiar ; and then it is impossible for any one, who feels 
the power of eloquence, not to be borne irresistibly along by 
their impetuous torrents of thought, argument, and illustration. 
The effects of this thorough and reiterated study of Demosthe- 
nes, are well described by Wyttenbach, one of the most dis- 
tinguished classical scholars the continent of Europe has lately 
produced. ' O salutare repetitionis consilium nee unquam satis 
praidicandum ! ecce denuo religens, novus plane et incognitua 
ad animum meum accidit sensus. Adhuc in aliis auctoribus, 
intelligentia non nisi delectationis mihi voluptatem attulerat, 
cum ex rerum verborumque perceptione, turn ex progres- 
suum meorum animadversione: nunc inusitatus et plus quam 
humanas affectus mentem permeat, et quavis lectione invales- 
cit. Video oratorem ardere, dolere, impetu ferri ; incendor et 
ipse, eodemque motu auferor : altior fio nee sum qui fueram ; 
videor mihi Demosthenes ipse esse, stans in tribunaU hanc 
orationem habere, Atheniensium concionem ad majorum vir- 
tutera et gloriam hortari ; nee tacitus lego, ut inceperam, sed 
alta voce; ad quam tollendam imprudens inducor, cum sen- 
tentiarum evidentia et fervore, tum numeri oratorii efficacia.^ 

* ' O excellent plan of reviewing ! never sufficiently to be inculcated ! Lo ! 
as I re-peruse the orator's pages, a new and before unknown feeling pen- 
etrates my mind. Before this time, in reading other authors, Iliad derived, 
from understanding them, gratification and delight, both in comprehend- 
ing the train of thought and language, and in observing my own advance- 
ment. Now, an unusual, a more than human excitement rushes upon me, 
and grows stronger by every repeated reading. I see the orator ardent, in- 
dignant, hurried by the flow of his eloqxience. I am enkindled myself^ 
and borne along by the same mighty impulse. I become loftier, and am no 
longer the man I was: I seem to myself to be Demosthenes, standing upon 
tJie tribunal, pronouncing that same oration, exhorting the assembled Atiie- 
nians to imitate the valor and win the glory of their ancestors. I read np 
longer silently, as I had begun, but aloud. I am led unconsciously to raim 
my voice, by the clearness and fervor of Iris sentiments, and the power of 
Itis rhetorical harmony.' 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 29 

2. It would be useless for me to attempt a full and just 
exposition of the claims of Grecian genius upon our studious 
attention. As I have before i^emarked, a detailed and philo- 
sophical history would alone unfold all the relations, in which a 
familiar acquaintance with its masterly excellences would ben- 
efit the mind, and prepare it for future usefulness in the actual 
world around it. But I cannot help adverting to the high 
moral effects of a classical course of study, upon the heart and 
character. 

I am aware that wise and good men have objected to an- 
cient hterature, on the ground, that the deities of Greece and 
Rome are represented as indulging in human vices and pas- 
sions. But it does not seem to me possible that a poetical de- 
scription of the pagan gods — understood to be merely poetical — 
can have any bad tendency. At least, the mind capable of being 
injured by an influence so indirect and distant, would be injured 
in a tenfold greater degree by the most ordinary temptations 
of daily life. In all other respects, the moral influence of clas- 
sical learning, is certainly excellent ; and this excellence ap- 
pears most conspicuous on comparing it with the miscellane- 
ous reading so common among students of the present day. 
The severe intellectual discipline of former times, has, I fear, 
become too nearly obsolete. The great passion of our age, is 
to acquire knowledge without labor. This I think is to be de- 
precated. Labor is the unavoidable condition of all excellence 
whatever. He who attempts to reverse this first law of our be- 
ing, attempts the greatest of impossibilities. We read the peri- 
odicals and other popular works, and dream that we are win- 
ning knowledge with infinitely greater rapidity than our pre- 
decessors ; and congratulate ourselves, that the studious days 
and watchful vigils of the gigantic scholars of old, are 
now no more. Besides that portion of our popular reading, 
which is merely light, there is much positively pernicious. 
The dangerous and seducing sentiment of many works 
which the press in its abundance pours out upon us, weakens 
she character and corrupts the heart. It steals in, like a subtle 



30 Mil felton's lecture, 

poison, with the beauties of imagery and the fascinations of 
style, softens the fiimness of moral feeling, and destroys the 
sternness of virtue. The elegant vices of fashionable hfe come 
to us adorned with the charms of perverted genius, and fasten 
themselves, with their taint and their blight, upon the young 
and excitable spirit. Even when these vices are described but 
to be satirized, they are held up in such a hght, as to tempt 
imitation. Who has not seen the influence of ' Pelham ' in 
the affected, effeminate, absurd manners of many young men 
of the present day 7 Who has not seen the moody melan- 
choly of Byron transferred from his pages to the brows of many 
a conceited misanthrope, whose only resemblance to the poet 
was his bared neck and his down-turned collar 7 It is this 
pernicious influence of our present light reading, upon the 
character, the manners, and the heart, which most needs cor- 
rection. Such a work as Mr Moore's Life of Byron is calculated 
to effect more injury^ by smoothing over a life filled up with 
the most degrading vices, and by representing utterly aban- 
doned profligacy as the venial and even necessary foible of 
splendid genius, than the whole circle of heathen gods and 
goddesses, were they ten times as bad as they are represented 
in Homer's Olympus. 

The tone of ancient hterature is everywhere high. A clear 
and severe study of it, does, I am convinced, contribute more 
to the formation of a truly manly character, than any other 
study whatever. The strong patriotism, which is one of its 
leading traits, when modified by the superior light of mod- 
ern times, is, to my mind, a strong recommendation. There 
is- not the slightest danger, that we shall fall into ancient ex- 
cesses, and stigmatize all who are not born on our American 
soil, with the epithet of barbarians. We look with too much 
reverence every opinion imported from beyond the Atlantic,^ 
and with too much distrust upon our own, for the just appre- 
hension of such a danger. The patriotic spirit of ancient lit- 
erature, strong as it is, may safely be met, in the education of 



CtASSICAL LEARNING. 31 

aiir young men. They will find nothing of that vitiating 
sentiment, which taints so large a portion of the common lit- 
erature of the day, in the pages of Grecian and Roman classics. 
The fine minds of antiquity were filled and glowing with vi- 
sions of the greatness and happiness of mental excellence-— 
tlie aliquid immensuTn infinittwique of Cicero, was aspired 
after, in the longings of those noble spirits, in other regions of 
intellect no less than in oratory. Believing as I do of those 
studies, I cannot but regret the comparative indifference, with 
which, in these days of utility and reform, we have seen them 
treated. I trust the prejudice against them is one of those popular 
prejudices, which, after a temporary triumph, sink to an everlast- 
ing oblivion. I trust the cavils of men who never read an an- 
cient author in the comprehensive spirit of philosophical research 
will not, in many minds, be permitted to outweigh the united 
testimonies of the greatest men the world has ever seen. The 
long array of scholars, and poets, and orators, and statesmen, 
who formed their tastes in the school of antiquity, form a cloud 
of witnesses, whose testimony goes as far as testimony can. 

But I do not think we are able to judge, from the course of 
classical learning common among us,, of its legitimate effects. 
A few volumes of extracts, some of them containing but poor 
specimens of the rich literature of the Greeks, constitute the 
whole mass of reading, by virtue of which we call ourselves 
classical scholars. Not one graduate in a hundred, probably, 
from our best colleges, has ever read the entire works of a single 
Greek author — and yet we do not blush to talk loudly of the 
uselessness of classical learning. That this department of ed- 
ucation ought to be placed on a widely different footing, I have 
no hesitation in asserting. Instead of confining our courses 
of what we call a liberal education, to Professor Dalzell's Mi-^ 
nora and Majora, or other books of a similar nature, which 
would answer well enough for elementary works in schools, we 
must take up the general study of antiquity — read the authors 
connectedly and entirely-— 'illustrate them by philosophy, poli' 



32 MR felton's lecture. 

tics, geography, liistory, customs and manners, mythology 
and reUgion — and then we may decry, if we will, the advan- 
tages of classical learning. In the present day, we not on- 
ly confine ourselves to the shreds and patches of ancient litera- 
ture, but are devising new modes to shorten the labor of ac- 
quiring this poor supply of ' beggarly elements.' Almost every 
day presents some wonderful apparatus for attaining, in a few 
months, a thorough knowledge of Latin or Greek or Hebrew, 
which, when men could talk Greek, as Cotton Mather says, 
by the hour, and write Hebrew as fast as their mother tongue, 
would have entitled them to the penalties attached in those 
days to the forbidden exercise of unholy powers. 

I am no advocate for the old scholastic systems of teaching. 
I have no wish to see young scholars forced to spend tedious 
days and months and years, in conning, page after page of 
barbarous Latinity, before they understand the meaning of a 
single word. But I do believe, and I think my opinion is 
borne out by literary history, that the old-fashioned systems, 
bad, absurd, oppressive, as many of them were, produced bet- 
ter scholars, riper intellects, cooler heads, than any of the labor- 
saving machines, which have in such multitudes been the 
playthings of this self-indulging age. I doubt not they have 
apparently promoted the rapid and easy attainment of learn- 
ing ; but, if they have been successful in the final issue, it has 
been only through the skill of the teacher and the genius of 
the learner, which gained the object in spite of them. 

If, then, it be a desii'able thing that our young scholars should 
be trained up in classical pursuits, and in such a manner as 
best to fit them for the duties of life, it is evident a general 
change must be made, and that change must begin some- 
where. Those who are devoted to the business of instruction, 
must enter more deepl}'^, more philosophically, into the spirit 
of the classics, than has been common among us in these latter 
times. We must put forth our best energies to master the 
treasures of learning, and awaken in our pupils an enthusiasm 



XK, GM 4W 



n 



CLASSICAL LEARNING. 33 



for similar pursuits. No great object has ever been achieved, 
no glorious enterprise has ever been accomplished, without 
the inspiration of an enthusiastic soul to lead onward — to conquer 
difficulties — to fulfil miracles. No halfway devotion of the pow- 
ers will win that success which a man of genius may be proud 
of, in this laborious career. It is no theatre for the labors of him 
who aims at another and a diflferent profession — ^it is no step- 
ping-stone to a more elevated position in society. If it were, 
no man, conscious that he has within him the elements of 
distinction, would stoop his eagle faculties to an employment, 
fit only to exercise the genius of a plodder. In the whole cir- 
cle of the learned professions, I know of none which presents 
nobler topics of eloquence, more exciting and elevating sub- 
jects of reflection — and, I may add, more useful fields of labor, 
than that of a man of letters. Indolence and stupidity have no 
part nor lot here — every power is called upon — every moral 
feeling is confirmed — and every honorable aspiration may be 
gratified. It is not my purpose to eulogize the profession of a 
teacher ; but when I see many engaging in it with dread, and 
leaving it with pleasure — when I hear it spoken of as a fit re- 
.sort for the drudge and the blockhead — I cannot but ask, if 
the explanation of the great authors of the ancient world — 
embracing, as it does, such a depth and variety of learning- 
admitting, as it does, the highest flights of imagination and el- 
oquence — employing, as it does, thousands of the first intellects 
of the first intellectual country on earth — I cannot but ask, if 
it is a fit resort for a drudge or a blockhead, — if it is a pursuit 
to be adopted with dread, and relinquished with pleasure. My 
answer to these questions would be one and decided. 

It seems to me, that American intellect enjoys peculiar ad- 
vantages for its developeinent. We feel immediately every 
movement of the spirit of the age ; our plastic institutions adapt 
themselves at once to every improvement : but the danger is 
lest we mistake empiricism for improvement. If we are care- 
ful to adopt the good and avert the evil of our singularly hap- 



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34 MR felton's lecture. 

py situation, our intellectual destiny is fixed. Aloof from the 
corruptions and quarrels of the old world, we enjoy, as so on 
as wind and wave can waft them to our shores, the science and 
the literature, so profusely nurtured in those, their ancient 
abodes. With ourselves it must remain, to cultivate the manly 
spirit which is so preeminently the tone of the literature of 
antiquity. 

August H, 1830. 



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